


Keeps Me From Unravelling

by ifeelflames



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, New Year's Eve, Post-Blue Lilly Lilly Blue, Pre-The Raven Boys, Ronan's foul language, Spending Christmas together, adam pov, blame the prompt generator I used for that, brief homophobic language, canon compliant except Adam knits a lot, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:28:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifeelflames/pseuds/ifeelflames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Whatever response Ronan gives, it’ll be the truth, not just spilled platitudes; it makes Adam desperately want to win his approval. Ronan, this enigma of a boy with the ability to create anything from nothing, who has dreamed some of the most amazing, ridiculous creations. Adam chews on his bottom lip briefly, before forcing himself to stop. To be casual.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i> Ronan stops, stares at the gift sitting on his lap and then barks out the loudest laugh in delight. “Fuck, Parrish that is hideous!” His eyes are alight with a wild kind of joy.</i></p><p> </p><p>(Or the one where a prompt generator gave me "Adam Parrish knits Ronan Lynch a hideous sweater" and I ran with it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeps Me From Unravelling

It’s an old lady, from a few trailers down, that first teaches Adam to knit. He’s around 8 years old at the time. She finds him wandering the trailer park on his own, having just walked himself home from school, because neither of his parents had shown to collect him. Wherever they are, they aren’t at home because he knocked and knocked but no-one had let him in.

She puts down her knitting and calls out to him, as he makes his way past where she’s sitting on a rickety old porch chair, Adam catching her eye as he drags his feet. He's scuffing his battered old sneakers through the sandy dirt on the ground, in the way one who is lost and unloved sometimes does when the weight of being themselves gets to heavy.

Mrs Wilson is her name. She has the most creased face Adam had ever seen, and her skin is like leather, tanned and worn. When she smiles he can see she is missing several teeth, but it still feels awfully good to see a smile directed his way for a change.

She pats the space beside her and Adam, who has nowhere else to be, sits down wordlessly, his fingers worrying at the flakes of lilac paint peeling off the wooden seat beneath him, his posture nervous and unsure. Mrs Wilson resumes her knitting. Adam watches, fascinated, as her gnarled knuckles move with more dexterity that he imagined them capable of.

The third time Adam finds himself sitting on Mrs Wilson’s porch seat, she observes, “You don’t say much do you kiddo?” Adam shakes his head and looks at his feet. Silence is golden in the Parrish household. Silence is safe, well, safer anyway. “Well, if you’re not going to talk, maybe you want to knit?”

And so she teaches him the basics, and they sit in companionable silence knitting. Him focusing on his stitches, her not commenting on his black eye.

That summer, Adam visits Mrs Wilson several times, and on one visit she scratches her chin and says, “You’ve really gotten the hang of this, what’s say I give you a pair of needles and a couple of balls of yarn to take home, would you like that?”

Adam feels himself flush at the praise, a foreign language in his life, and accepts her gift. The needles are cheap plastic ones, but they feel precious to Adam.

Adam is careful when he gets them out at home. He waits until his parents are out, or his father has passed out on the couch. Then he allows himself this little escape; knot, cast on, begin, create.

Three days later his father bursts into his room like a hurricane, and Adam doesn't have a chance to hide his knitting.

His father yells and roars, snatching the knitting needles and snapping them in half. “No son of mine is going to be a faggot, do you hear me? If you have free time then you clean the trailer, do the washing up for your mother, clear the yard. Sometimes I think you try to make me angry on purpose Adam. You useless piece of shit. Where did they even come from? Where?”

Adam doesn't want to get Mrs Wilson in trouble, but after the third blow to his ribs he sobs out her name all the same, as he watches his ball of yarn roll across the floor and unravel with a growing sense of detachment from reality. It feels like yet another part of himself is unravelling with it. He is made from frayed ends, and one day they will all be pulled and he will simply cease to exist. Maybe that will be for the best.

His father erupts out of the trailer and heads over to Mrs Wilson’s. Adam staggers to his feet numbly, and watches from the doorway as his father yells at the aged, hunched form of the kindly old woman, spitting at her feet and hurling her porch seat through the air, leaving it tipped over and half dangling off the front of her trailer’s porch, a flourish of lilac paint flakes whirling in the air around it.

Mrs Wilson lives alone, and she is too old and frail to pick up the seat herself, so it remains like that until she dies two years later. Not one miserable person on the settlement ever sets it right it for her. Maybe they are afraid of Adam’s father, maybe they don't care, maybe she never asks. Adam doesn't know. Mrs Wilson stays inside her trailer after that. Adam never dares visit her again, for fear of what his father will do to both of them. Every time he walks past her door though, he thinks _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

After her death, a new family moves in and gets rid of the seat all together. Their arrival is the first thing Adam knows of her passing.

Adam doesn’t knit again, he spends his spare time fixing up anything around the place that he can instead and then, when he is a little older, his father puts him to work helping him fix cars in the yard. His soft fingers grow calloused, his childlike skin grows hard.

\----

It’s Persephone who suggests Adam finds something to do to ground himself; something calm and repetitive to clear the mind, something to help let the anger fizzle out and his focus return. They sit in silence with her calmly watching him draw cards. Her gaze is inscrutable, and he feels naked beneath it. “Ah yes,” she tells him quietly, “Yes, I think that would be just the thing.”

She leaves the room without another word, leaving Adam to stare at her retreating form with the confusion he’s come to associate with time spent alone with Persephone.

When she returns, she is carrying a battered looking cardboard box. Spilling out from it are scraps of fabric, lace, some weird meshing.

Adam’s eyes lock on the coloured yarns and wools also protruding over the lip of the box. “No,” is all he says, his voice is sharp and firm. Not that, not again.

“I’ve never been very good I’m afraid,” Persephone muses, carrying on as if he’d never spoken. “The others laugh at my creations, I know they do.” She pauses and her black eyes lock on him. “But then I don’t think being good is necessarily the aim, so it doesn’t really matter. Besides, something made with love doesn’t need to be perfect, love is all about imperfections after all.” Her focus drifts, and the intensity of her gaze is gone. In that moment Persephone looks very far away, her eyes lost in the past.

"I can't, not that.” Adam hates the strangled tone to his voice. “Anyway, I don't have the time, and what's the point? You of all people know that there is so much more important stuff I need to focus on! Cabeswater, and saving Gansey and finding Glendower!”' Adam can feel his blood rushing through his veins, can feel that hot frustration flooding under his skin like gasoline, just waiting for someone to strike a match and ignite it to a full blown blaze of anger.

Persephone just smiles at him serenely. “I think you’re proving the point right now dear, don’t you?”

She sends him home with a pair of knitting needles, metal ones this time, and a few rolls of yarn. When he returns to St Agnes, Adam stuffs them in a bag and hides them under the box he uses as a bedside table. He doesn’t want to look at them.

\---

A few days after Persephone dies Blue shows up on his doorstep, a box full of wool and yarn clutched tightly in her hands. “We were in her room and...she wanted you to have these, Calla said so.” Her voice is small, worn, her eyes are red rimmed and raw in the way that only tears after tears can leave them. Adam wants to shut the door on her, to hide from that level of raw grief. For one terrified moment he wonders what he’ll do if Blue starts to cry again, but instead she just marches past him and dumps the box on his bed before sitting down heavily next to it. Her jaw is locked tight and her expression is fierce, as if she's forbidden herself to cry while she's here.

Adam stands in the doorway for a moment, silently willing Blue to leave, even though he hates himself for it, before he finally closes the door and cautiously sits down on his bed, a safe space between them. They don’t speak, but eventually Blue begins to knit, begins to relax. They gravitate closer and Blue settles, leaning against Adam’s side with her feet curled up under her. Adam thinks this is the smallest she’s ever looked. Despite her small stature, her personality usually makes her seem somehow _more_. Adam doesn’t speak, but he does hesitantly put his arm around her, and she nestles in a little closer as she works. Eventually she turns to him and instructs, “Adam Parrish, will you get knitting! I didn’t drag all this over here for nothing you know. Do you know how, or do I need to teach you?”

\---

And so Adam knits. He doesn’t have a lot of time for it around school, work and looking for Glendower, but he tries to make time when he feels his mind needs it, or when he can’t sleep. He just knits strips of fabric for a while, but Blue comes over sometimes and encourages him to make actual items. She shows him how to knit socks one afternoon. She makes a bright green and orange pair for herself, Adam makes a simple navy pair; they look a little clumsy, but they’ll do to wear around his room, and they’ll be good for keeping his feet extra warm inside his boots when he works winter night shifts.

\---

Adam is sitting cross legged on his bed, quietly knitting, when the door to his apartment suddenly bursts open and Ronan barges in like a hurricane.

“If we hadn’t been in church I swear to god I’d have punched him in his goddamn face. The Barns was his home too for fucks sake, how can he hate it that much?” Ronan draws in a ragged breath, his whole body coiled and aching for a fight. He looks at Adam for the first time since storming in uninvited. “Parrish, the fuck are you doing? Are you _knitting_? Jesus Christ.”

For the briefest moment, Adam freezes, remembered fear coursing through him thick and suffocating. In that split second he’s no longer on his bed in St Agnes but back in his childhood bedroom, and it isn’t Ronan’s furious form looming in his doorway but his father’s. The needles fall from Adam’s fingers, the yarn hitting the floor and unravelling as it rolls away from him, too far, too fast for him to catch it and hide it. The damage is done, he’s been seen. He’s been found out.

But no, this is Ronan, and for all Ronan’s rage and fire, and for all the violence Ronan directs at the world, somehow Adam knows he’s safe with Ronan.

Whatever sarcastic response was curling on Ronan’s biting tongue, it dies the moment he takes in the sight before him, his anger at Declan forgotten. “Hey, Adam? Parrish what’s-” Ronan trails off, looking concerned and confused.

Adam curses himself for letting his face betray him. “Would it kill you to knock?” Adam chastises, his voice a little too sharp. He takes a deep breath, breathing in the now, pushing away the past. Straightening his back and raising his chin he adds, “And yes, I am knitting-or I was until you charged in here.” His eyes hold a cold challenge, daring Ronan to comment on it, while his insides twist fretfully. He doesn’t want Ronan to laugh at him, not about this.

“Parrish-” Ronan doesn’t finish that sentence.

Adam grits his teeth. “Whatever petty joke or snide comment you’re going to make, just save it, yeah?” He might be judging Ronan too harshly, but he’s not going to take any chances, he won’t show any weakness, not now.

Ronan’s expression is ugly, and his pale skin flushes slightly. “Fuck you, Parrish. I wasn’t going to fucking--never mind.” Ronan turns on his heels and heads towards the door, everything about his posture furious. He stops just in front of the door, his hand raised but he doesn’t finish reaching for the handle, as if he’s in two minds about leaving.

“Ronan, just-” Adam sighs, counts to ten and forces himself to calm down. “What _were_ you going to say, then?”

Ronan doesn’t turn back around to face him, so Adam is left just staring at his back. “I don’t know.” Ronan mutters.

“You do,” Adam chides, Ronan rarely lies, if he’s trying to now then he must be hiding something.

“Fine.” Ronan’s voice is sharp as he spins back around. “I was going to ask you what just happened when I came in. The look on your face-” he snaps his jaw shut and clenches his hands into fists. “But then I realised you’d never tell me anyway, and that it’s none of my business, so I didn’t ask. Happy now?”

Adam looks at him for a long moment, trying to put together the pieces of the enigma that is Ronan Lynch. He can tell Ronan is angry, but he can also tell it’s not directed at him, but at the injustice of the world at large. “You wouldn’t like it even if I told you.”

Ronan just snorts out a bitter laugh, “but you won’t tell me, so it doesn’t matter does it? Just forget it Parrish. I only came over to ask if you wanted to go over the Latin homework together anyway.”

Adam is quiet for a long moment before he nods, “Yeah, sure. I’ll get my books.”

Fighting with Ronan is exhausting, and it’s something Adam gets no enjoyment from these days, it somehow feels like a failing, so he steps around it. He wants to be mad at Ronan for expecting him to open up about private things, Ronan who hoards secrets until he can’t hold them anymore. But then, Adam realises, these days that’s not necessarily true. Ronan told him about Matthew, told him about Greenmantle, and sometimes shares small stories about his father when they’re at the barns.

But it’s different, Adam’s childhood stories are not warm and nostalgic, they’re dark and cruel and things to be kept away from others, just like the monsters in Ronan’s head.

While Adam digs into his school bag for his text books, Ronan silently picks up the yarn from where it’s laying on the floor and begins to wind it back up. The bundle he thrusts at Adam is messy, but Adam appreciates the gesture none the less. “Thanks,” he murmurs quietly, and then they sit on the floor, books spread out around them, and they work.

It’s some time later when Ronan finally gives up any pretence of studying and pushes his text book away from his body sourly, like it smells bad. “So why knitting?” he asks. He’s not looking at Adam, choosing instead to watch his fingernail trace the grain on the wooden floorboard in front of him.

Adam twists his pen in his hand, never looking up from the page. “Persephone suggested it. She thought it was something I might find helpful, something non-magical for me to focus on when I needed it.”

Ronan nods. “And does it help?”

Adam shrugs. “Maybe, it helps me clear my mind of everything, I guess.” That’s a lie, he never clears his mind, but it helps his focus drift off the bad things for a little while, makes them a blur in his peripheral vision instead of great big roadblocks in front of him.

Ronan nods again, and Adam goes back to working.

\---

Adam doesn’t hide his knitting from Ronan after that. If Adam can't sleep on the nights Ronan crashes at his he’ll just knit for a while, easing his mind until sleep finally takes him. Sometimes, Adam wakes with the needles still in his hands and Ronan asleep on the floor. Other times Ronan is gone, and his needles are resting on the table. Adam tries not to think about how carefully Ronan must take them from his hands, so as not to wake him.

One particular night, Adam gives up on tossing and turning, restless, as sleep evades him, and pads barefoot over to his supplies then back to bed before falling into a rhythm to try and soothe his restless mind. Gansey’s foretold demise has been an almost unbearable weight on his shoulders over the last few days. Both Adam and Blue know time is running out, and both of them are feeling helpless. They have to find Glendower, and soon, but as close as Glendower seems he’s still just as out of reach as the sleep Adam seems to be constantly chasing.

Ronan is asleep on the floor, and Adam sits in bed with the blankets pooled around his waist and his knitting in hands.

When Ronan wakes with a jolt and a pained sound, Adam jumps so badly he almost drops his needles. He’d lost himself in the repetitive motion, emptying his mind finally as he listened to the soft, steady click click of his needles.

Before Adam has time to react, Ronan mutters, “It’s fine, I’m fine.” His breathing is laboured though, and Adam frowns in concern. He wants to reach out and attempt to offer some form of comfort, but he suspects Ronan would only shrug him off angrily, so instead he stays where he is and asks, “do you want to talk about it?”

Ronan shakes his head roughly, “Jesus, no.”

Adam had suspected as much, but it felt rude not to offer. They sit there in silence for a moment, while Ronan gets his breathing back under control and his body slowly begins to relax, finally Adam asks, “Can you pass me the blue and green wool?”

“What did your last slave fucking die of?” Ronan grouches, but he grabs the wool and hands it over to Adam. Instead of returning to the floor, he sits next to Adam on the bed, a little closer than he’d usually allow. They don’t talk, but Adam resumes his knitting and Ronan watches for a while. Adam can feel Ronan's gaze burning into every inch of his skin, drinking him in, and he wonders just what Ronan's nightmare was. Ronan’s eyes eventually grow heavy and he dozes off, slumped awkwardly against the wall. Listening to Ronan’s soft breathing, Adam feels his own eyes finally droop. He knows he should wake Ronan, make him move, there’s no room for Adam to lay down. Sighing, Adam puts his kitting away and returns to the bed.

Adam wakes in the morning with the crick from hell in his neck from sleeping sitting up, Ronan doesn’t fare much better, but they both got some sleep, and that’s something.

\---

It’s around this time Adam notices that Ronan seems to finds the sound of the needles clicking together soothing, or maybe he just finds watching Adam knit soothing, Adam's not sure. He never says anything, but Adam’s sharp eyes pick up on the fact that when he starts knitting Ronan is more likely to drift off to sleep.

Tonight Adam is so ready for sleep. His body and mind are begging for him to fall into bed, close his eyes and let sleep take him. Only, Ronan is staying over, and Adam can tell he’s wound too tight and is worrying himself about something. The dark circles under his eyes suggest he hasn’t slept much this week.

Scrubbing a hand over his face and stifling a yawn, Adam reaches for his needles. Ronan raises a questioning eyebrow at him, obviously expecting Adam to just turn of the lights and sleep. Adam simply raises one back and begins to knit.

\---

A couple of weeks later, Ronan is sat on the end of Adam’s bed watching him work on the item he’d started the night of Ronan’s nightmare. The blue and green thread has now been joined by a mottled purple one. The pattern is more challenging that a lot of the stuff Adam’s made, and the crease between his eyebrows is deep with concentration, his thin lips pressed together as he works.

“The hell are you even making there Parrish?” Ronan questions, a look of disgust on his face. Ronan’s supposed to be doing homework, but he’s doing more talking than working. He’s also been staring at Adam’s hands a lot.

“It’s a shawl.” Adam replies, drily.

Ronan snorts a derisive laugh, “OK Grandma Parrish.” His eyes flicker with amusement.

Adam levels him with a look, mildly annoyed with yet another interruption. “It’s for Blue.”

The laughter in Ronan’s eyes vanishes, and he scowls at the floor. “Well that explains why it’s so fucking hideous.” Adam is about to bite out a response when Ronan continues. “You knit her things?” His tone is a little off, clipped slightly. Adam tries to place the emotion in it, but he can't.

Adam shrugs. “Sometimes. I gave her a hat and a pair of socks a while back.” Adam knits to calm himself, not because he always needs the end product, so it makes sense to give it to someone who might wear it. Plus, Blue had seen he was running low on materials and bought him a few new bundles of yarn. Adam hadn’t wanted her charity, but she’d told him she didn’t have the inclination or patience to knit for long enough to finish anything right now, given everything that was going on, so he was to shut up, take the yarn, then make her something with it. So he had.

Ronan looks sharp and foul, his eyes still trained on the floor. “Hate to break it to you Parrish but you could knit her a whole fucking wardrobe and she still wouldn’t take you back.”

Adam puts down his needles forcefully, afraid he might impale Ronan with them shortly if he doesn’t shut up. He’s not sure what the hell has rattled Ronan’s cage suddenly, but he’s not been as cruel as this in a while.

“It’s not like that. Why do you have to be such an asshole all the damn time Ronan? Jesus.” Adam sighs loudly. “I knit for Blue because one) she gave me yarn, and two) she actually appreciates it when I make something for her. I’m not trying to get her back. I don’t--I don’t want that, not anymore.” Adam feels himself flush slightly, because there’s a further truth lurking just behind that statement that he’s been determinedly ignoring for a while, and now is really not the time to think about it.

“Whatever Parrish, all I’m saying is you never knit anything for the rest of us.” Ronan plucks at the worn blanket beneath him.

And that’s...Adam looks a little closer at Ronan. _He’s jealous_ his brain supplies although, as soon as he thinks it, he feels ridiculous and chastises himself for being foolish enough to entertain the idea. _Although_ , Adam studies Ronan’s face and posture carefully from under his lashes. The thing is, Adam knows when Ronan is jealous; he had a front row seat for it when Gansey decided to make friends with him.

At the time Adam had thought it was purely Ronan feeling contempt over Gansey sullying himself with someone like Adam, but Gansey had explained that Ronan was prone to jealousy, and though Adam had thought Gansey was simply trying to save his feelings, he’d realised later it was true. Adam had seen him react the same way when Gansey took Adam on trips to DC with him instead of Ronan. He saw it in action when Adam introduced Blue to the group, though he’s still not sure why.

The fact remains, looking at Ronan now, the way his eyes are dark and burning, the tense set of his jaw, the way his hands are curled into casual fists, and the way his tongue is spitting venom, Ronan _is_ jealous.

Adam let’s out a bark of a laugh at the lunacy of it. “Like any of you would wear it, or want it, if I did! Well, Noah might if he could ever change his clothes, but you and Gansey? _Please._ ”

Ronan raises his chin in the air. “Fuck no, but it’s the thought the counts Parrish.”

Adam’s tone grows a little playful, despite himself. “If you’re not going to treasure my creations then I’m not going to waste my time making them for you, it’s that simple.” He wonders what the hell he’s doing, this is dangerous.

“Wearing them and treasuring them aren’t the same thing.” The words seem to slip out of Ronan’s mouth before he realises what he’s saying, what he’s implying. Ronan looks stricken, and Adam knows that, if he was a good person, he’d interject and move the topic along, pretending he hadn’t noticed, but instead Adam just watches as Ronan struggles, a little frantically, to find purchase on this dangerous ground.

Adam tries to ignore the way his heart is suddenly hammering against his ribcage, sounding too loud in his ears. Ridiculously, he feels like he’s going to smile, and forcibly stops himself.

Ronan’s face shows rapid flickers of a variety of emotions before he finally snaps out, “I mean, just because the maggot wears them doesn’t mean she treasures them. She’s probably just too poor to turn down free clothes.”

Adam sighs, and suddenly finds the smile he was fighting has abruptly vanished, instead he frowns at Ronan. Trust Ronan to resort to cruelness to cover his own embarrassment.

Ronan seems to sense Adam’s mood souring, he shoves his hands in his pockets. “And yeah, Gansey might not wear that shit but you know he’d probably cry a river over you making him something.”

Adam tilts his head slightly as Ronan talks and let’s out a loud sigh. As per usual with Ronan, the important thing is what he’s not saying. Ronan is jealous. Ronan wants Adam to knit him something, even though he’ll never wear it, even though he’ll no doubt mock Adam for it and make snide comments, for some unfathomable reason he still wants Adam to want to knit him something.

Adam thinks of the gifts Ronan has given him, and realises he’s never even considered giving something in return. It’s not as selfish as it sounds, it’s not that he wouldn’t want to give Ronan something, it’s simply a case of what could he, Adam Parrish give the boy who can not only afford anything he wants, but also dream himself the world? What could Adam possibly have of worth to give to him?

“Maybe I’ll have to make him something then, Christmas is just around the corner after all, and I have no idea what to get him.” Is what Adam says.

Ronan nods. “Cool. Well, I should-” he jerks his thumb at the door, packing his books away quickly and fleeing into the night.

Adam goes to bed early, but it’s a long while until he sleeps.

\---

Gansey is going back to DC for Christmas for a few days, so they all get together at Monmouth the night before he leaves. School is officially out for all of them, for a couple of weeks, and Gansey is frustrated to be leaving Henrietta when they finally all have the free time to devote to Glendower, but his visit home won’t take up the whole holiday, he tells them again and again.

Christmas is always an awkward time for the boys. Gansey always returns to his family, Ronan usually stays at Monmouth; begrudgingly spends time with Declan and enjoys seeing Matthew, and Adam has always spent Christmas with his parents. He knows Gansey and Ronan don’t really know how to act around him at this time of year, both due to his personal life and his resistance to receiving gifts.

This year though, things seem somehow more awkward than ever. This year Gansey is going home as usual but, rather than looking forward to seeing his family, he seems frustrated and impatient at the thought of putting their quest on hold at such a crucial time. Ronan won’t be staying in Monmouth; instead he can finally return to The Barns, although he told Adam darkly that he wasn’t expecting Declan to stay more than a night at most, meaning Matthew was upset about having to choose between his brothers.

And this year Adam will be spending Christmas alone. He’s honestly not sure if this is an improvement or a downgrade, just that it’s different. He is both glad to be out of the trailer he called home for seventeen years, and sad to know he will probably never spend Christmas with family again. Mostly, Adam’s trying not to think about it. He’ll celebrate it with his friends briefly tonight, and then he’ll just carry on like it’s any other time of the year.

The five of them gather together, spread over the floor and the sofa. Noah's been vanishing a lot today, but Blue has laced her fingers through his, so for now he’s with them. Gansey clears his throat and starts handing out presents. Both Blue and Adam tense, but he placates them with the words, “small but sincere,” while thrusting the elaborately wrapped parcels them at them. Adam’s not sure Gansey knows how to give on a budget, Blue’s ‘small but sincere’ gift is probably diamond earrings or something ridiculous.

Adam has an uncomfortable relationship with presents. His parents sometimes gave him something small for Christmas or his birthday, but money was always tight, and every gift came with a catch; _we got you that book for your birthday and this is how you repay us? After that Christmas present the least you can do is do your chores without complaint_ , and so on. It makes him reluctant to accept anything, in case something is expected in return.

The truth is, his happiness was never anyone’s priority and he’d had few friends before Aglionby, so this all still feels rather foreign to him. Sitting here having packages handed to him makes him feel flushed and uncomfortable rather than full of excitement/ At least this year he feels he has something to give back that should be well received, and put him on an equal footing with them all.

Adam hands parcels out to Blue, Gansey and Noah, before glancing at Ronan and finally handing him his. Ronan looks at it with unmasked curiosity, seeming to notice his is the biggest gift.

“Well, I’m just going to go ahead and suggest we open them now, while we’re all together!” Gansey enthuses, and Blue and Adam share a small look, because they both know only too well just how quickly the clock is ticking on them all being together unless they find Glendower and get that favour. Adam swallows.

“Typical rich boy attitude, not being able to wait for anything.” Blue replies, shaking off her fear of the future for now, and reaching for her own presents. There follows a storm of wrapping paper, as gifts are torn open. Adam is pleasantly surprised by the very old looking Latin book Gansey gives him to help him communicate with Cabeswater, it goes well with the scrying bowl from Blue.

To say Gansey is pleased with his scarf is an understatement. Adam is quietly proud of it; it’s a charcoal grey, made from a fine soft wool that cost Adam more than he would have liked, but seeing the look on Gansey’s face makes it worth it.

Adam glances at Ronan again, offers him a small smile and mouths, “Thanks,” because without Ronan’s outburst, he never would have considered _making_ something as a gift.

He gives Blue the shawl he’d been working on and she’s equally thrilled, wrapping it around her shoulders and spinning around the room in it, laughing as Noah bats at the tassels hanging from it.

Ronan makes a show of shaking his present, as if trying to guess what’s inside. “Parrish, if you’ve knitted me mittens I will stuff them down your throat.”

They both know the parcel is far too large to be mittens, but Adam rolls his eyes and replies, “Damn, I thought they’d look rather fetching on you.”

Ronan snorts and tears off the paper like a hurricane, but the skin over his cheekbones flushes a pleasing shade of pink.

Adam tries to ignore how his palms feels sweaty and his face too hot as he waits for Ronan to see his gift. It mattered to him that Gansey was impressed with his scarf -- Adam has always wanted badly to impress Gansey after all -- and yet, somehow it has become more important to him to impress Ronan. Ronan won’t lie to save his feelings.  Whatever response Ronan gives, it’ll be the truth, not just spilled platitudes; it makes Adam desperately want to win his approval. Ronan, this enigma of a boy with the ability to create anything from nothing, who has dreamed some of the most amazing, ridiculous creations. Adam chews on his bottom lip briefly, before forcing himself to stop. To be casual.

Ronan stops, stares at the gift sitting on his lap and then barks out the loudest laugh in delight. “Fuck, Parrish that is _hideous_!” His eyes are alight with a wild kind of joy.

“Ronan!” Gansey chastises, looking horrified at his friend’s choice of words.

Adam just let’s out a quiet laugh, “No, really Gansey, he’s quite right.”

Ronan holds up the item in question for all the room to see; it’s a bright red knitted sweater, featuring a raven dressed as Santa, perched on a chimney. It has thread that sparkles in it.

Blue makes an utterly delighted noise and yells out, “Put it on! Put it on!”

Noah is also laughing and joins in with her chant.

“Yeah Ronan,” Adam smirks, “Put it on.” The jumper is, without a doubt truly hideous. But then that was the point. Adam had agonised over what he could make for Ronan, and everything he considered he soon dismissed. He wanted Ronan to like it, but he was afraid of making something that was supposed to be beautiful, only to have it fall short. Creating beautiful things was Ronan's area, not Adam’s. And so, after several hours agonising over what he could give Ronan he had decided to knit him the most hideous Christmas jumper on the planet. The pattern had taken some modifying, and the beak  and eye are a little wonky, but it only adds to the overall monstrosity of the piece. Briefly Persephone's words, from what feels like so long ago, echo through his head _Besides, something made with love doesn't need to be perfect, love is all about imperfections after all_. He pushes the thought away, his face feeling too warm.

Ronan snorts. “I am not wearing that fashion disaster.” He looks at Adam, “In fact I'm not sure I'm even going to give you your present now”. Though even as he says it, he shoves a messily wrapped parcel across the floor towards Adam.

Adam picks it up carefully, wondering what on earth it will contain. Another mixed tape maybe? Some weird but amusing dream object? He passed it from hand to hand, trying to gauge the weight of it.

“Fucking hell, it won’t open itself Parrish,” Ronan mutters, he looks embarrassed and angry simultaneously, and his glance cuts around the room and it’s occupants.

Adam unwraps it carefully. Inside are several balls of wool and yet they are like nothing Adam has ever seen before; the colours are so natural, so _real_ , as if the wool isn't dyed that shade, it simply _is_ that shade. Some of the colours are somehow _other_ , as if his mind is telling him it’s blue simply because it doesn’t have a name for the actual shade in front of him, but his eyes can see it’s something new. His fingers trace over a green --with the softest brown and gold flecks in it -- that looks like the moss on the trees of Cabeswater with reverence, and _oh_ , it’s so beautifully soft, it makes the stuff he used on Gansey’s scarf feel like sandpaper. It’s beautiful; beautiful wool from the mind of a boy who makes beautiful things.

Adam doesn’t know what to say, but he hopes the look on his face says it for him. Judging on the private smile Ronan briefly throws his way, it does.

\---

Ronan comes up after mass on Christmas Eve. Adam has seen Ronan dressed for church before, but he looks even more formal than usual, although he’s already tugging viciously at his tie to try and get it off.

Adam leans on the door frame. “Are you trying to hang yourself or-?”

Ronan shoots him a dirty look, and tugs harder on the knot, refusing to admit defeat.

Adam rolls his eyes. “For the love of-” he pushes off the door frame and steps closer to Ronan, reaching out determinedly for his tie. “If you’d just undo it rather than pulling on it like an idiot,” Adam scolds, trying to ignore how intimate the action feels.

Ronan has gone eerily still beneath his touch, Adam’s not sure if he’s even breathing. “There.” Adam slides the tie off with a flurry, quickly stepping back and putting a more respectable amount of space between them.

Ronan stares at him for a moment, and his gaze makes Adam want to take another step, only he can’t decide if he wants to step closer or further away. “Thanks,” Ronan mutters eventually, before lingering in the doorway instead of striding in and making himself at home like usual.

“You heading off now?” Adam blurts out at the same time Ronan asks “So, do you have plans or?”

Does he have plans? Is Ronan seriously asking if Adam has plans? Since when does Ronan ever bother with social niceties? Adam’s eyes narrow in confusion as he realises Ronan is actually nervous, he can see him moving from one foot to the other, jaw gritted, and avoiding looking at Adam.

Adam wants to ask what’s on his mind, but he knows he’d probably never get an answer anyway, so instead he just answers the question. “Not particularly, I’ll probably just pick up some extra shifts-there's not many people who want to work this time of year, and things are always fairly quiet, so it's easy money.” Adam shrugs, pretending he doesn’t care.

Ronan exhales loudly.

“Blue did invite me to spend it at 300 Fox Way,” Adam defends, feeling a little self conscious at just how unwanted he must appear. “I just thought it would be -” he tries to search for an appropriate word

“Fucking terrifying?” Ronan offers.

Adam doesn’t want to laugh; it was extremely kind of Maura to offer, particularly given their loss this year, but a houseful of psychic women and an awful lot of children running around really wasn’t Adam’s thing. “A little overwhelming,” Adam corrects.

“Fucking terrifying.” Ronan insists.

Adam can’t help it, he does laugh then. “A little.” He concedes.

Ronan looks at him from under his lashes, like he wants to meet Adam’s gaze, but he also really doesn’t. The end result almost makes him look coy, which is not an expression often seen on Ronan Lynch. “So you’re spending it alone? Come on Parrish, that's just sad.”

Adam purses his lips tightly, because what was Ronan expecting? Ronan, better than anyone, knows Adam’s situation. “It’s fine.” Adam shrugs again, pretends the thought of spending the holidays all alone isn’t eating away at his insides and reminding him of how unlovable he really is.

Ronan runs a hand over the back of his head. “You could, always, y’know, come back with me? To The Barns. I mean, Declan isn't stopping, he's staying in a hotel tonight, and Matthew won't care-he’s spending Christmas day with me but then he’ll be joining Declan in DC.” Ronan stops, he looks awkward stood in the doorway. He clears his throat and pushes on, his words tumbling out a little faster than usual. “I mean, it makes sense really. We have all this spare time without Gansey, which we could use to work on waking the animals. It’s Christmas after all, the time for miracles and all that shit.”

And the thing is, Adam knows he should say no. Ronan is finally getting to spend his Christmas at his family home, with his favourite brother. Adam would surely just be an intruder, and yet Ronan has offered, and Ronan doesn’t do anything just to be nice. If he’s asking then he obviously _wants_ Adam there. Spending time like that with Ronan feels dangerous, like it’s crossing some invisible line, another reason Adam should say no. He could also really use the extra money Christmas shifts would bring. That’s three obvious reasons why he should politely refuse Ronan’s offer, just as he had Blue’s.

The problem is, the thought of spending Christmas in a place like The Barns, of spending it with Ronan…it’s something Adam wants. He hadn't given it a thought, at least on a conscious level, but now he knows it’s a real possibility, something that’s his for the taking, the word no sticks in his throat and refuses to come out. “OK,” he croaks, after what feels like an eternity. “Yes, yeah, that would be-” he’s not really sure how to finish that sentence without giving away just how much he wants this, so he says nothing.

Ronan looks as surprised as Adam feels. After a moment too long he just nods and says, “Well pack a bag Parrish, let’s get out of here.”

“I could drive up after Christmas,” Adam offers as an afterthought, guilt still clawing at his chest. “Once Matthew leaves, so you two can spend Christmas together.”

Ronan finally moves from the doorway and into the room. “Pack a bag Parrish, I haven’t got all day. We need to pick Matthew up in less than half an hour.”

Adam tells himself he’s not intruding and it’s not charity; Ronan wants him there so they can try and wake the dream animals, it’s not a big deal.

\---

They go to the Barns, and it’s the best Christmas day Adam has had in a long time. Matthew is so full of joy that it’s almost infectious. He comes bouncing into the living room and flops down onto the sofa next to Adam. The fire is blazing in front of them, and Matthew hands Adam a candy cane with a smile as he flips on the TV and searches for a Christmas movie to watch.

It visibly pains Ronan that Aurora can’t come to them, but they go to her, both her sons relishing the fact their mother is awake this year, even if she’s not at home. Adam stays at the edge of the forest, not wanting to intrude any further than he already is. Cabeswater shines sunlight down on him and Adam sits on the forest floor, his bare hands pressed against the warm earth, his eyes closed. He feels content, it’s nice.

When the boys return, Matthew looks pleased and Ronan looks more vulnerable than usual. Adam falls into step beside him. “We’ll find a way,” Adam tells him. “However long it takes, we’ll find a way.” Ronan’s eyes skim to Matthew and then quickly away. He doesn’t reply, but he does bump his shoulder against Adam’s and remain closer to him than strictly necessary for the rest of the walk back to the BMW.

\---

None of them are exactly great in the kitchen, but Adam is more than familiar with the basics, his parents had been big on self sufficiency. Ronan and Matthew both used to cook with Aurora when they were kids, so they set about making a cake for dessert, while Adam pulls together a fairly basic roast with the ingredients Ronan had already stocked the kitchen with. Adam tries to imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t come here, if Ronan and Matthew had attempted the cooking. Judging at the flour storm currently happening opposite him, Adam suspects the kitchen would have looked like the scene of an explosion. While Adam carefully puts away everything as soon as he’s done with it and washes up as he goes -- always afraid of making a mess -- Ronan and Matthew don’t seem to care at all what state they leave the work surface in. Adam wonders what it would have been like to have a mother like Aurora, but honestly, he really can’t imagine.

Matthew has flour in his curls, and Ronan has a blob of cake mix on his cheek and is trying to glare at Matthew, and Adam can’t help but laugh at the pair of them, the sound surprisingly warm and rich.

Matthew looks at at him then, and the expression on his face is more Lynch than usual, his gaze deep and penetrating. Adam feels exposed under it, But then Matthew looks away and leans in close to Ronan, whispering something that makes Ronan’s face heat up. Adam can see the red spreading up his neck from across the table. Ronan elbows Matthew in the ribs, hard.

They wash up before they eat, and when Ronan comes downstairs wearing the sweater Adam knitted him Matthew laughs for 15 minutes solid, the sound bouncing off the wooden beams of the old farmhouse and filling it was the kind of life a home like this was meant for.

Ronan is different around Matthew. He seems more at peace, more of a boy than a weapon, which is funny really, because Adam doesn’t think Ronan has ever seemed more dangerous than he does right now; wearing a ridiculous sweater and play fighting with his kid brother while Chainsaw looks on wearily from the top of the clock in the hall.

\---

Matthew leaves in the morning, Declan swings by to pick him up but doesn’t come in. Ronan is still furious that Declan chose to spend the night in a motel on the edge of town rather than staying at The Barns, and glares at him the whole time. Declan gives Matthew a hug, frowning when he notices Adam standing beside Ronan in the doorway. Adam says nothing, just gives a small nod. Declan gets back in his car.

And then there were two. It feels like it should be weird, being holed up for the holidays with Ronan, but it’s not. The truth is they’ve spent a lot of time together, just the two of them, recently. They’ve also been spending more and more of that time at The Barns, and Adam is starting to feel a strange sense of belonging when he’s here. He’s a little embarrassed by it, he feels like a fraud; this place is not any kind of home to him, it is Ronan’s home not his.

They don’t try and wake the animals the first day. After Matthew leaves, Ronan seems content for them to roam the fields exploring and daring each other to do stupid things. It’s freezing but there’s no snow on the ground -- though the jagged mountains in the distance are capped with it -- so sledding is out, but Ronan gets Adam to ride a trash can lid down a large frozen hill. Needless to say the hill comes out the victor, but Adam huffs out an out of breath laugh all the same as Ronan fares no better and crashes onto the ground beside him, their breath clouding the air between them.

They climb onto the roof of one of the larger barns and Ronan shows him just how big the property really is, gesturing at the sprawling pastures and wild woodland around them and pointing out places of interest.

This is probably the most relaxed Adam has ever seen Ronan, and in that moment it seems perfectly OK to lean into him and rest their shoulders together, to soak in the warmth radiating from him as he tells Adam about the time his father dreamed up actual fairies in the wood, and how one of them bit Declan on the nose.

Ronan’s voice falters and he trails off, and Adam suddenly realises what he’s doing and that he should move away, because this isn't what they do, but Ronan resumes his story, his voice a little more gravelly than before and, after a moment, leans into the weight of Adam beside him.

Adam feels something settle inside him, and they stay like that for a while. It's nice, and just for once Adam doesn't allow himself to try and talk himself out of what he's feeling for the boy sat next to him. Instead he just quietly admits it to himself, let’s it sink in, the words rolling around his brain, _I have feelings for Ronan Lynch_ , and _I think I want more_.

\---

In his rush to pack, Adam had forgotten his knitting things. Ronan had stood there staring at him, drumming his fingers impatiently over the wooden surface of Adam’s desk, and then over the bathroom door frame as he’d prowled in, following Adam. Ronan didn’t speak but his whole body was screaming _hurry up, hurry up. hurry the fuck up_ , and so Adam had basically resorted to just throwing what he could find into his bag. He'd been briefly concerned when he realised, and also a little annoyed --- he’d hoped to further inspect the wool Ronan had given him -- but it turns out neither of them seem to have much trouble falling asleep at the Barns. Maybe it's the fresh air, or the warm fires, or maybe it's just the sense of home that's cradled within the walls. Either way, as Adam lays on his back, listening to the soft sound of Ronan’s breathing nearby, he can already feel his eyes drifting closed.

\---

The next day, they sit side by side in the barn Ronan brought Adam to the very first time they came here. Ronan has got the strange dream object in his hands again, and Adam is feeling a definite sense of deja vu. This time he forces himself to look at the dream thing for as long as possible, to acknowledge what he sees in its shifting form. It's still hard to look at, but he makes himself try again. It's a book, it's a tree, it's a glimpse of blue eyes and a sharp curved smile, it's a word he's not quite as afraid of any more. It’s something he wants.

Adam tears his focus away, beginning to feel dizzy from looking at it for so long. He moves forwards and places his hands on the cow nearest to him. Behind the dream of a dream, Ronan's face is cast in planes of light and dark, and he looks otherworldly as he leans in closer to blow through it. Adam shivers but his insides feel warm; just as they had when he'd been curled up in front of the fire watching Ronan and Matthew days before.

They both hold their breath. Looking at Ronan just now, Adam honestly feels anything it possible, how could it not work? How could the universe deny a creature like Ronan anything?

And yet the cows sleep on and Ronan doesn’t get his Christmas miracle.

\---

For a while Ronan is sullen, and Adam isn’t sure whether to offer him comfort or give him space. Comfort isn’t something Adam is familiar with; he’s rarely received it, and he’s really not sure how to give it.

Night falls like a dark shroud, and Adam finds himself hovering awkwardly in the doorway to Ronan’s room. There are spare rooms in the house, but Adam has still been sleeping on a camp bed in Ronan’s room since they arrived; neither of them ever seemed to consider Adam sleeping anywhere else in the house.

“Parrish, what the fuck are you doing?” Ronan asks. He’s laying on his back, on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his face still set in a scowl.

“Trying to work out what to say to you to make it better, without lying.” Adam admits, the truth slipping from his lips easier in the dim light.

Ronan sits up and looks at him, the scowl drops off his face, leaving an expression that makes it clear that wasn’t the answer he was expecting.

“I’m sorry you invited me here to help you and I couldn’t.” Adam sighs, because that’s the truth of it. He feels guilty that Ronan brought him here for magic and instead got disappointment.

“Adam-” Ronan starts, and his face is more open than usual, he let’s out an exasperated sigh. “Parrish, I didn’t invite you here because I expected you to do something for me! I invited you because I wanted you here. You get that, right?”

The honesty of this admission catches Adam off guard; hearing Ronan flat out state he enjoys spending time with Adam is not something Adam expected to hear. Before now, there seems to have been some kind of unspoken agreement between them that they were both going to pretend nothing had changed, that they weren’t growing closer and closer.

Adam takes a breath, then another, and finally he leaves the doorway and moves to sit beside Ronan on his bed. “I guessed you must be fairly fond of me, given you actually wore that hideous sweater all Christmas Day.” He allows his lips to twist into a small smile.

“Let’s not be hasty,” Ronan mutters. “I said I wanted you here, not that I was _fond_ of you. Jesus Parrish, slow your roll, don’t get clingy.”

Adam’s gaze is knowing as he looks at Ronan. It issues an unspoken challenge. _Are you brave enough to admit the truth, or are we going to keep dancing around it?_ “It’s been good, you know.” is what Adam says when Ronan remains quiet. “Best Christmas in a while, so thanks.”

Ronan scoffs slightly. “That wasn’t much of a challenge give your past ones, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Adam rolls his eyes and pushes Ronan’s shoulder. He figures either he’s read Ronan wrong or Ronan simply isn’t ready to push things further. He moves, getting ready to stand, when Ronan’s hand comes out and grabs his wrist, gently, his fingers creating a gentle cage around the skin and bone beneath them.

“I’m glad you’ve had a good time.” Ronan isn’t looking at Adam, he’s looking at where his fingers are wrapped around Adam’s wrist.

Adam can feel his pulse hammering under Ronan’s touch. He swallows and looks carefully at Ronan, taking in the sharp lines of his face and the nervous set of his mouth. Adam leans forward a fraction.

Ronan’s eyes flicker up to Adam’s face. They sweep from Adam’s eyes down to his lips. Ronan swallows, and for a fraction of a second Adam sees the carefully constructed walls fall down, leaving nothing but want and warmth in Ronan’s eyes. Ronan does look done with pretending, and Adam shivers in anticipation; the Ronan is front of him is the Ronan who takes risks and seeks out the thrill of adrenaline, but it’s also the Ronan that loves his brother and takes such gentle care of the things he loves, and Adam thinks _this is it, he’s going to kiss me_.

And then Ronan’s phone rings.

Both of them jump as if they’ve been burned, and Ronan let’s out a soft curse under his breath. His eyes are still bright and sharp, but the rough edge of wildness has been sanded off.

Adam's eyes flit down to where Ronan's phone is laying on the bed. He reads the caller ID. “It's Gansey.” He sighs. They meet each other's eyes for a moment too long before Ronan lets go of Adam's wrist, the movement sudden, and answers his phone. Adam’s pulse is still surging beneath the skin that had Ronan’s fingertips pressed to it just moments before.

“Dick,” Ronan drawls, more annoyance coloring his voice than Gansey deserves, his frustration showing on his face. Adam can imagine the sigh Gansey is probably making at receiving such a greeting.

Gansey speaks and Ronan snorts. “You sure you can tear yourself away from your mother's plate collection and Helen’s titillating conversation?”

Adam hears the words Glendower and his own name in the next sentence.

“Jesus you're like an old woman sometimes, Parrish is fine.” Ronan glances at Adam, glances away. Gansey must say something else because Ronan exhales loudly before finally saying, “Parrish isn't on his own all right, he’s here, with me. And before you start, the Maggot has had plenty of family to keep her company, though Noah is probably bored as fuck.”

Gansey speaks again, Adam can't make out his words but the cadence of his voice is unmistakable even distorted down a phone that’s pressed against someone else's ear. Ronan makes a grunt of assent. “Yeah, alright, see you then.”

“When’s he heading back to Henrietta?” Adam asks, his voice a little rough, as Ronan hangs up.

Ronan looks at the bed, his face set in a mask of indifference. “He’s driving back right now.”

Adam nods and tries to swallow the gaping feeling of disappointment spreading through his body. He should be pleased; he misses Gansey and it’ll be good to have him back, but it also means leaving The Barns and this other life they’ve been leading for the past few days.

“Time to pack your shit up again Parrish.” Ronan announces gruffly, and then leaves the room.

\---

Adam spends a lot of time over the next few days thinking everything through. His relationship with Ronan had been on a knife’s edge that night; was it a case of their friendship being saved by the bell, or did they miss out on a chance they should have taken?

The gang are united again, and between hitting the research books and actively going out and seeking Glendower, Adam gets little time alone with Ronan, in fact Ronan seems to be almost avoiding him, and hasn’t slept at St Agnes since they’ve been back.

When he's not working late, Adam takes to knitting before bed to fill the sudden void. He knits and he thinks. Sometimes he just sits on his bed, running his fingers over the dream wool Ronan gave him, marvelling again at the feel of it. Adam desperately wants to use it, but he feels like it should be used for something truly beautiful, and he can't think of anything his hands could craft that would be deserving enough of such finery. He raises it to his cheek and presses it against his skin. Adam takes a deep breath, and then another one and let’s his mind clear of all his concerns, let’s it drift. Then, he asks himself a simple but weighty question; _what do I want?_ Thought of Ronan fill his mind and he sieves though them.

There are memories from the past few days; Ronan laughing with Matthew, Ronan wearing that ridiculous jumper, Ronan giving Chainsaw Christmas gifts and watching her destroy them with an expression akin to a proud father. There are memories from further back, like Ronan cupping that mouse in his hands, Ronan dreaming up EpiPens for Gansey and hand lotion for Adam. Spending time with the softer version of Ronan that he’s only now really getting to know has been eye opening, but Adam knows deep down that he also wants the sharper version of Ronan just as much. Ronan is such a contrary creature, but both sides of him appeal to Adam. It’s not just the loyal, loving side, he also wants to drown himself in the thunderstorm raging through Ronan’s veins, he wants to riot with the daredevil who relishes in showing the world how fucking alive he is.

Adam wants it all, that’s what he wants, and it hits him like a freight train.

The thing about Adam is that he’s always pursued the things he wants, even if he knows he might fail or embarrass himself, even when he knows how difficult that path might be. When he wants something enough, he always tries to obtain it. This thing with Ronan is something he wants to explore, and he’s beginning to realise that, left to his own devices, Ronan will never make the first move, and so Adam is going to have to.

\---

New Year’s Eve finds the five of them on the roof at Monmouth. Noah is telling Ronan not to stand so close to the roof edge, he’s flickering slightly. They all know he’s finding it harder to stay present these days, yet another worrying problem to solve, but tonight is not for dwelling on problems, it’s for focusing on possibilities. Blue uncurls herself from where she’s sitting, a little closer to Gansey than either of them would usually allow, and laces her fingers through Noah’s, pulling him to sit down with them. “Oh, let him fall,” she tells Noah, but there’s no heat to it.

Ronan stays near the roof edge, staring out into the night, a beer in his hand, but he casually flips Blue off over his shoulder.

It’s freezing, but sitting wrapped up under the stars is nice. The cold air filling Adam’s lungs makes them ache, but not in an unpleasant way, it simply acts as a constant reminder of how alive he is, how awake.

They stay outside until none of them can feel their fingers and their noses are numb. Blue has to be home before midnight; Maura and Calla are doing some kind of ritual apparently, and with Persephone no longer there, they need Blue's energy more than ever, apparently. Truthfully, Adam’s suspects they’re just making sure Blue's not in situation where she’s tempted to kiss someone at midnight.

Adam watches them get up, Gansey of course offering to drive her home, as Adam knew he would. Adam gives Blue a brief hug and mentally prepares himself, because this is what he’s been waiting for.

Ronan hasn’t spoken to him much all night, but Adam knows better than to take it personally. Ronan might not have spoken to him, but he’s been casting plenty of glances Adam’s way when he didn’t think Adam was looking, all of them giving him away.

Adam sees Noah giving him a shit eating grin before he waggles his eyebrows and then disappears, leaving them properly alone.

Adam walks over to the edge of the building, and just stands next to Ronan for a moment, both of them looking out into the darkness. Adam’s thought about how to go about this a lot, but eventually he figured a simple, unmistakable gesture would be his best bet; Ronan is a fan of actions over words, so Adam may as well follow his lead.

“Ronan,” Adam begins, and when Ronan turns to look at him Adam’s stomach twists and his palms grow a little sweaty. Despite this Adam pushes on, determined. “Happy New Year.”

Ronan looks confused, it’s only 11:30pm after all, and then Adam closes his fingers around Ronan’s wrist, sliding his thumb under the leather bands he finds there, gently pulling Ronan a little closer.

On the roof of Monmouth, beneath the stars, he kisses Ronan Lynch for the first time. It’s a slightly hesitant kiss and Adam keeps it brief, an irrational fear of rejection still ever present, even now. His heart is pounding against his ribs -- as if it knows he’s opening his chest, taking it out, placing it in Ronan’s hands and giving Ronan the power to crush it and it’s _terrified_. But, Adam reminds himself, he has seen Ronan’s hands cupping the most fragile of creatures, so he knows there are no better hands to place it in.

Ronan makes a soft surprised sound, his breath rushing out of him and clouding in the night sky. He pulls back to look at Adam, his gaze penetrating. “You sure about this Parrish?” his voice is barely more than a gruff whisper and the raw hope in his eyes takes Adam’s breath away. To think that someone wants him that badly, to know that Ronan wants him that badly...it doesn't seem real.

“I’m sure.” Adam smiles, his face transforming itself into something light and sincere, no hint of the usual weight it carries, and then Ronan’s lips are curving up into the most real smile he’s ever seen from the other boy.

“In that case, happy New Year to you too Parrish.” And then Ronan’s lips are on his again, and this time it’s less hesitant and more real than Adam ever imagined it could be. Ronan’s lips are soft, softer than his own, and the feel of them against his is enough to make his hands tremble. He tries to hide it, fisting them in Ronan’s clothes, but he’s not sure he succeeds. It suddenly feels like this something that’s been coming forever, and that’s a lot to process.

Ronan breaks the kiss, and his fingers come up to trace Adam’s cheekbone reverently, before Ronan seems to become aware of himself and pulls them away, his hand hanging a little awkwardly at his side, as if he’s still itching to touch.

“Adam, what is this to you?” Ronan asks, carefully.

Adam looks at the boy in front of him in wonder; because he suddenly sees how unsure Ronan is. It doesn’t seem right that anyone, especially a boy like him, can hold so much power over someone as untamed as Ronan.

It’s a hard question to answer, not because Adam has any doubts about what he’s feeling, but because such feelings are hard to put into words. He leans his forehead against Ronan’s and simply breathes, “Important,” he pauses, chewing words over in his mouth before adding, “Real.”

Ronan’s whole body seems to relax with something akin to relief and, now he’s no longer holding himself back, his hands reach for Adam once more, touching his face, brushing at a strand of hair, and finally taking Adam’s hands in his. Adam leans into him, enjoying the touch. Adam could get used to this, he thinks.

They both hear the Pig pull into the parking lot, reminding them of where they are. Ronan clears his throat and reluctantly let’s go of Adam’s hands, his cheeks look flushed with more than just the cold air, Adam’s feel pretty warm too, warm and bold. He drags Ronan in one more time, his lips insistent and Ronan makes a pleased sound, his hands resting lightly over Adam’s waist before becoming braver and moving round to his lower back, urging him closer.

Adam doesn’t want to stop -- he tugs lightly at Ronan’s bottom lip with his teeth and Ronan responds by sliding his hands just a fraction lower and digging his fingertips into Adam’s jean clad ass -- but he knows they should.

They break apart, trying to get their breathing back under control. Ronan’s eyes seem to be finding it hard to focus on anything but Adam’s mouth, which Adam can’t seem to school into anything other than a grin.

Gansey bursts out onto the roof looking a little flushed from running up the stairs. “I didn’t think I was going to make it up here in time, but I did.” He looks at his watch and begins a countdown.

Adam glances slyly at Ronan, only to find him glancing right back, neither of them able to hide the smiles that curls at their lips.

“Happy New Year!” Gansey crows, throwing an arm around both their shoulders.

“Jesus, Gansey you know I don’t do fucking hugs.” Ronan mutters.

“Do you feel it?” Gansey breathes, his eyes alight, “How right now everything feels possible?”

Behind Gansey's back Ronan briefly links his pinky finger through Adam's, and Adam can't help but agree; in that moment everything really _does_ feel possible.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be a quick drabble to to help me try clear my writer's block, but it somehow took on a life of its own and just kept growing. I'm afraid I know nothing about knitting, so sorry if any of this seems wildly inaccurate, forgive me.  
> This is also unbetaed, so sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> I used [this prompt generator](http://creativichee.tumblr.com/miniscenario), in case anyone was wondering, and I'm [greywarenmagic](http://greywarenmagic.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr if you want to say hi :)


End file.
